


carved crystal

by cybernya



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybernya/pseuds/cybernya
Summary: a jedi knight and a clone commander - both hardened in their own way. they soon learn that only the hardest crystal cuts itself, and it cuts deep.many thanks to whirlybirbs/pilotisms for the title!
Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Original Character(s), CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	1. introductions

“I didn’t think purple was…”

“Was _what?_ Attainable as a lightsaber color?”

“I mean, I get that Master Windu has one - I’ve seen it myself, but -“

“But what, there’s only supposed to be one? Well, _Master Windu_ is -“

Master Plo clears his throat as he entered the room. Commander Wolffe glances from jedi to master, a smirk faint on his features.

“Master Windu is not the only one to have obtained a purple kyber crystal,” the General starts, hiding a laugh.

Among the Clones, his former padawan looks rather small, her appearance more akin to a youngling than a Jedi Knight. She’s short, thankfully no longer swimming in robes like those years ago where he trained her. The only thing that gives her away is the mess of grey hair, neatly braided across her crown.

“I do, however, specifically remember that you are not a member of the Jedi Council while Master Windu _is_ ,” Plo continues, clasping his hands behind his back. “I remember distinctly you struggled with your title of Jedi Knight upon first receiving it. Perhaps your role as General will be easier?”

There’s a sense of amusement to the Jedi Master’s tone as he watches carefully - her emotions move from flustered to embarrassed rather quickly.

“Commander Wolffe, give our newest general the tour of the base. Make sure she doesn’t wander off on you,” he waves, moving to discuss the next operation with Sergeant Sinker.

As Commander Wolffe walks, he notices a slight jingle ever time the new Jedi general took a step - one of her accessories seemed to serve as a bell, tinkling softly. He replaces his helmet, eyebrow raised before beginning the tour.

“These are the barracks for the 104th…”


	2. touched starved

Emotions swirl in your head as you feel your body burn hot.

Ever since you joined the front lines of the war, reuniting with your Master from so many rotations ago, you felt _off_.

The 104th Attack Battalion has been, for the most part, far more welcoming than you expected. Perhaps it is because of the way they hold General Plo Koon in such high regard? Or maybe it’s the way your personality seems to fit in with the level of sass and attitude coming from the clone troopers.

You can’t put your finger on it.

The Wolfpack, as you’ve come to know them, takes pride in their work and each other. They’re constantly clapping each other on the back, singing praise of what they’ve each done individually and as a team each mission.

You feel out of place, saber clipped to your belt. You’d worked alone for so long after being granted the title of Jedi Knight that this companionship hit like a sucker punch to the gut. You banter back and forth to protect you, but when Sergant Sinker claps you on the back to congratulate you one day, you feel as if your skin was going to burst into flames, hungry for more contact.

_The Code_ , you remind yourself, thinking of how many rotations it’s been since you swore to it, just a teenager with bright eyes and a lopsided smile. It has been so long since you felt whole - felt wanted and welcomed by someone’s side - that you can’t process it.

Your R unit, silver and purple, beeps, eliciting a groan from the Commander. You’ve learned he very much does not like droids, even if they take a liking to him.

You ache for more attention, more praise and physical contact after that. Sinker continues to applaud you and your skills, especially after you’re forced to use a staff in close combat rather than your signature saber. It stokes the fire inside, making you feel things you have sworn to give up.

No attachments, you chide yourself, trying to hide the pride you feel as Boost brags about you one night on leave. Your chest tightens and you try to distance yourself from the pack, tucking white and grey hair back behind your ear.

Suddenly there’s a hand on your shoulder and you freeze - it’s not Sinker, not with the way his thumb is tracing gentle circles into your robe, nor is it Boost with how tentative it is, hesitation coming off of it in waves.

“Come back to us, sir.”

You blink, realizing it’s the commander, good eye searching your face, brows wrinkled.

He lifts his hand and gestures for you to come back. **To us** , he said - not to him, not to the 104th, not to the pack, to _us_.

You toss back the rest of your drink, nodding as he guides you to where they’ve moved in the back of the bar.

Maybe a little attachment couldn’t hurt, you tell yourself as Wolffe’s hand finds the small of your back, thinking about how warm he is and the concern he seems to have for you.

~~(It’s not until you’re all sleeping together for warmth on some icicle of a planet do you realize how much you’ve attached yourself.)~~


	3. cracked

You wonder what it’s like to be held.

The thought crosses your mind constantly - and every time there’s a moment of connection with one of the Wolfpack, your brain goes into overdrive.

It happens more regularly, and despite this you still can’t handle the concept of being physically connected to someone else. Everything shouts back at you about The Code, and you so desperately want to shout back a nice long list of expletives.

It’s not until one mission, where nearly the entire Wolfpack is injured, do you realize how fragile life truly is. Seeing Commander Wolffe floating in a tub of bacta is unnerving - it twists your stomach and you realize that lives are more important than some age-old Code.

It’s also then do you realize that the Commander feels a similar way; or, you at least finally connect all the dots in your head that indicate he’s interested in you.

When he comes stumbling back to the racks from the med bay, your skin crawls - the force bends around you and your anxiety. You wanted to be there right when he was discharged, but you knew your face would betray you, that the force would betray you like it does right now.

“Welcome back,” you mumble, mouth dry as you lean on the wall. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest and you can swear Wolffe feels it too.

“General,” he nods, smashing in the code to his room. He pauses for a moment, eye catching yours before he gestures for you to enter alongside him.

The door falls shut after you enter, and it’s hard to even think with the blood pounding in your ears. You hear the faint sound of your bell jingle, but you’re not really paying attention to it as you move.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally better,” you smile, shifting awkwardly on the spot you’re rooted to. 

Wolffe grunts in response, waving a hand as he pauses in front of his closet. “Nothin’ a good bacta soak couldn’t fix. You, on the other hand, look like shit.”

He’s blunt, like normal, but it takes the wind out of you.

“Oh, didn’t realize,” you shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. You’d been worrying so much about him, about  _ everything  _ that you let the bags under your eyes darken, exhaustion seeping into your bones every day Wolffe was in the tank. Your emotions swirl and you wish you had the audacity, the courage to wrap your arms around him and -

“You shouldn’t worry about me, how many times have I told you that?”

“I almost -  _ we _ almost lost you…” you quickly correct yourself, tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes. Your emotions are getting the best of you and you peel your eyes away from Wolffe’s gaze, staring holes into the floor as you will the tears not to fall.

The commander closes the space between you, a hand moving to your cheek as he thumbs away a runaway tear.

“Hey, look at me -” he whispers, an arm wrapping around your shoulders as his thumb strokes your cheek. “- I would do it again, yeah? To make sure that you - that  _ you _ survive well after I do. It’s my job as your commander, innit? Tell me what’s wrong, what in the force has you so -”

“I love you.”

You feel emotions - yours? His? - swirl within you, mixing with the force, and it’s overwhelming. You’ve never felt this way before, so vulnerable and open. Your heart stutters and for a moment, you wonder if you made the right decision. Everything inside you is screaming from the physical contact - Wolffe’s hand at your cheek and shoulder - that you feel like you’re burning. The shame comes milliseconds after, hitting you like a sack of spare parts, and you open your mouth to apologize.

Nothing manages to come out, though, as Commander Wolffe grips you tightly, pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

You nearly collapse right there, knees going weak. 

Is that what it’s like? Is this what you’ve denied yourself, working alone for years?

You stagger, but Wolffe still holds you, nose nudging against nose as you manage to grab hold of his bicep for balance. Your other hand winds into the short hair at the back of his neck, fingers digging into his skin as you hold on for dear life. Tears fall down your cheeks, the salty taste mingling with the messy kiss as the hand on your cheek slides into your hair, cupping the back of your head. 

It feels like you two are kissing for eternity; the good kind, you note, as Wolffe’s tongue snakes into your mouth, searching for more of you to consume. His grip tightens and you let out a sob, finally pulling away for a moment to catch your breath. 

“I almost lost you,” you finally admit, chest heaving as the commander rests his forehead against yours.

“But you didn’t,” he whispers, cybernetic and good eyes searching yours.

“But I didn’t,” you repeat, and you feel something within you crack. 

The dam of emotions you kept up for so long breaks, the feeling cathartic as you lean up into Wolffe for another hungry kiss. 


End file.
